


Nighttime, Emptiness, and Tea

by beanjamoose



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, kinda? he is comforted but not directly, this is really just sad rantaro ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanjamoose/pseuds/beanjamoose
Summary: Nighttime was never an easy time for Rantaro. It was generally bearable when he was out adventuring, however. The lights, sounds, and smells of somewhere new were so fresh and lively, each city and forest uniquely its own. Each place had its own charm that made sleeping a bit easier.Each place except one, however.The Amami household.
Kudos: 3





	Nighttime, Emptiness, and Tea

Nighttime was never an easy time for Rantaro. It was generally bearable when he was out adventuring, however. The lights, sounds, and smells of somewhere new were so fresh and lively, each city and forest uniquely its own. Whether it be loud and bustling with neon lights and the smell of cheap street food, or quiet and peaceful, with the smell of old dirt roads and crickets singing everyone to sleep, each place had its own charm that made sleeping a bit easier.

Each place except one, however.  
The Amami household.

Rantaro always thought it was a little funny whenever people talked about how nice it was coming home from a long trip just to fall asleep in your own bed again, simply due to how backwards it was for him. He absolutely detested the feeling of coming home. Every other place on earth had something to it, some sounds or smells or sights that made the nighttime something nice. It was amazing how one building could manage to be such a huge outlier.

That was what was on Rantaro's mind as he laid in bed one night, the first night home from his latest trip. He stared past the open door to his bedroom, into a long hallway lined with six bedrooms, three on each side, each carefully labelled with their respective owners' names. That was one of the things that made home so... cold, Rantaro thought. All the empty rooms. A house meant for sixteen people, now only housing four. It was bound to be quieter than it should be.

Rantaro thought back to when they'd all first moved in. He'd only had nine sisters back then, but the house was still decently full with just the thirteen of them. It was nice, really... helping his sisters move their things into the house, helping them decorate, their first big meal together as one family...

The warm memories only made it sting more once he was forced back to reality. It was a feeling Rantaro was painfully used to, but something about that night... something about it was different. Colder. Emptier.

He needed to get out of that goddamn house.

Wiping the tears which threatened to spill from his eyes, Rantaro got up from bed and threw on the old jean jacket he'd worn when he arrived. He headed back down the hall and down the stairs, keeping his steps light, as to not wake anyone else. This was out of courtesy, of course, but also out of a desire to not be seen. Nobody needed to see him like that. Even if they were his parents.

He successfully made it downstairs and to the front door without waking anyone, to his knowledge, at least. However, as he unlatched the front door, a soft voice proved him wrong.

"Taro? Sweetheart... what're you doin' up so late?"

Rantaro took a deep breath before turning around to face his mother, an easygoing smile on his face which was all too forced. "Just... jetlag. Timezones and such," he lied, knowing full well he was a horrible liar. A tense moment of silence passed before he sighed. "I'm just goin' out to clear my head. I won't go far, I promise."

His mother hesitated for a second before nodding. "I'll leave you to it, then. Just don't stay out too long, alright?"

"Of course," Rantaro replied before turning to properly head outside. The night air was crisp, despite it being the middle of summer. He took a deep, wavering breath as he closed the door behind him. As he sat down on the top step of the porch, the sour feelings from before bubbled up and out, forcing a soft sob out of him.

The sobs continued to come, no matter how hard he tried to fight them back, to reign in his emotions, to just _stop crying._ After a few minutes, he conceded, curling in on himself as he sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed. He cried until he was out of tears to shed. He hated that feeling. The feeling of crying until the tears wouldn't come anymore. He hated everything about what he was doing.

After another few long minutes (or hours, he had no way of telling at this point) Rantaro finally stood on wobbly legs, his exhaustion hitting him like a truck. He headed back inside, everything just a blur of color at that point. He was too tired to think about anything else.

Once he got back to his room, he stopped, finally spotting something that didn't blur into the backdrop. A single steaming mug, placed on his bedside table. It was filled with chamomile tea, he found out, as he picked it up.

For the first time that night, Rantaro smiled for real. He just stared down at the mug in his hands for a long moment, a single speck of warmth in an otherwise cold home. As he drank the tea, his exhaustion faded into a much kinder sleepiness, until he was barely able to keep his eyes open. He soon drifted off to sleep, feeling warmer than before.

Nighttime was never an easy time for Rantaro.

But there were things that could make it easier.


End file.
